


The Circle Life

by Whuffie



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age Origins, Inquistion - Fandom, Origins - Fandom, dragon age inquistion
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Angst, F/M, not canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-13 23:54:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9147550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whuffie/pseuds/Whuffie
Summary: A frightened young mage at Kinloch Hold faces Greagoir with the help of a younger Cullen Rutherford. She beseeches the Knight-Commander to find proof of Jowan's use of Blood Magic before making him Tranquil.This is an orphaned work which went with something I deleted because I'd never have time to finish. It works as a stand alone so I left it up.





	

 

 

 

“What’s your name, child?” She was still young for her powers to manifest, but too old to put her fingers in her mouth. Bedraggled as a drowned rat, tangled hair fell into her eyes as she propped her finger tips between her lips. Greagoir immediately extracted them because they were filthy. “Well?” His hair was brown with the first streaks of grey, casting an imposing monolith over two little girls.

 “This one is Solona.” A voice muffled by a faceless monster in plates of metal and a bucket helmet prodded a sniffling, crying girl a few years older than Audrie toward the new Knight-Commander. “Solona Amell.”

 “I want to go home!” The girl broke into a fresh bout of tears and stared up at Greagoir with streaming, pleading eyes. “I want my mother! Please, I want my mother!”

 Greagoir sighed and shook his head. “This is your home now, Solona. You’re to be trained to use your gifts and protected.”

 “Mother wants me back home!” the little girl wailed. She hadn’t lost her implicit trust of adults, and it didn't occur that someone would separate her indefinitely from the only people who had ever loved and taken care of her. “I want to go home! Please,” she begged, choking on futile sobs and tugging on Greagoir’s gauntleted hand. “I’m scared. I’ll be good, I just want my mother!”

“Take her to Bran and get her settled in best you can,” Greagoir told the helmeted templar, then turned his attention to the silent girl. “She isn’t your sister is she?” He knew the answer already. The crying girl had a pampered well fed look. Her hysterics either meant her parents were reluctant to let her go to the Circle or they had turned her out once magic was discovered. The fortunate ones weren’t beaten by their own parents for being “demonspawn” or other nonsense before the Chantry could intervene. It was impossible to know which direction a family would go with the unexpected rise of magical talent in a child, and children rarely questioned the beatings until they were older. “Well?” he prompted impatiently.

Audrie shook her head mutely and he had to intercept her fingertips again. Putting his massive, gauntlet across her small fist he knelt at eye level with her. “What’s your name?”

She stared at him from a thin, pinched face which was almost all eyes. She’d need fattening up, and was fortunate the sisters found her. She would have starved or died in the cold if she hadn’t been discovered. “Can you talk, Girl?” he demanded.

Biting on her bottom lip she finally nodded and whispered, “yes.”

“Well, what’s your name?” He pushed her hands to her sides and let go of them.

“Audrie.”

She was nervous but not outright afraid. That made things easier. “Audrie what?”

She stared at him, nonplussed. “Audrie,” she repeated hesitantly, “I’m Audrie.”

“What about your family? What were their names?”

Shaking her head she fidgeted and rubbed her nose. “Mama went to the Maker and I don’t remember Da.”

Greagoir tried again. “What was her name?”

“Mama.”

He repressed another disgruntled sigh. “At least no one will come looking for you,” he muttered to himself. “I’ll introduce you to Irving. We’ll look after you from now on and see you have food, proper clothes and learn to use your magic responsibly. We need something to call you. The other one was named Amell. That will do for both of you.” It wasn’t the name of any Ferelden noble family and he wanted to get her fed so he could begin the process of preparing her phylactery. The weeping one was going to take time to settle down, but Audrie was as happy to be in the Circle as anywhere else. After they put warm food in her belly, in clean clothes, and she had a few other children to interact with, she was unlikely to give them any trouble. “Your name is Audrie Amell.” He had never heard of the connection to the Amell family in Kirkwall, their fame or scandals. Eventually he would fill in a parchment for Solana with the name Revka Amell for her mother and Audrie’s as “Unknown - believed deceased.”

If they had more than one girl with the same first name, he’d need something to separate them. It would do and the papers would be filed. He never gave the matter a second thought or tried to come up with anything more creative to individualize them. It was unlikely she’d ever leave the Circle, so what was the point in wasting valuable time?

 

** ** ** ** ** **

 

Audrie nearly jumped out of freshly earned mage robes. Privacy in the Tower was more valuable than gold, but when the privy wasn’t safe from gossips, what was!

 “You know that templar, Cullen?  He’s in love with you.”

 A smug, round face with a turned up nose met Audrie as she came to a confused halt, wedged in the crack of a half open door. Was Lari laying in wait to ambush the moment she stepped out of the privy? _Please let someone come along who needs to use the facilities!_ She resisted the urge to bite her thumbnail, wildly looking for a means of escape. “I really can’t talk right now, Lari,” she hedged. The last thing she needed was someone else badgering her about the Harrowing or Maker knew what else.

 “Why? Are you going to go meet with him now? You _know_ it’s forbidden for us to do anything with them. Even,” she paused dramatically, flipping bouncy brown hair over her shoulder, “if he’s the best looking one.”

 Lari was several years younger than Audrie and been intensely interested in smuggled copies of the _The Randy Dowager_ since she’d entered puberty. Anything even remotely risque’ or romantic caught her eye faster than a magpie on jewelry. “Cullen is on duty right now, I think.” Audrie wasn’t going to admit that she knew exactly which corridor he was watching, although she was only one of at least a dozen women who had his schedule committed to memory. Lari was right, Cullen was handsome, and his gentler approach to mages working with templars attracted a lot of romantically frustrated mages. “It doesn’t matter, anyway. All we do is play chess together. He’s teaching me strategy.” Unfortunately, she was a terrible opponent because she couldn’t plot anything out properly. Cullen always beat her in record time, but she didn’t mind. It was something to help ease the monotony for both of them. “We’re just friends.”

 “Oh you’re ‘just friends’ are you?” she tittered as if she knew something Audrie didn’t. “Your ‘friend’ has been telling everyone that you had the quickest, cleanest Harrowing he’s ever seen. Why would he say that, I wonder?”

 “Probably because it was.” Audrie tried to keep her voice bland so the panic didn’t leak out. Her heart was hammering so loudly it was almost drowning out the younger gossip’s insinuations. She was sure she was too pale and sweaty. Hopefully Lari would attribute that to being lovesick or the aftereffects of the Harrowing. “I really need to go, Lari.”

 “To see Cullen no doubt.”

 “No!” She was starting to lose her temper and scowled in the other girl’s perky face. “I’m going to talk to Greagoir.” A mocking note of challenge worked its way in as she added, “unless you want to come with me?”

 That was enough to make the apprentice shrink back a half step. “Greagoir? Why would you want to see him?”

 “For something only a mage would discuss, Apprentice.” It was petty and not something Audrie normally would have thought, much less said. Compassion was being smothered by teetering on the verge of abject terror. The last person she wanted to see was the Knight-Commander, but it popped into her head to throw Lari off the topic of non existent trysts. Greagoir universally terrified anyone under Irving’s age.

 Spinning on heel, the older girl forced a painful gulp down a dry throat and held her chin high, trying to look important. _Oh Maker, oh Maker, what have I got myself into? What if she says something to the templars? What if she really does try to follow me? Then what will I do? Oh Maker, help! I can’t do this. Jowan, you idiot, why did you have to pull me into your crazy scheme!_

 Doing her very best not to too look guilty, Audrie slunk into a deserted training room as soon as she was sure Lari gave up the chase. Flopping into a chair, she pushed her fingers through thick blond hair and slumped her head over her knees. “Breathe,” she told herself, trying to follow the advice. “Deep breaths.”

 Vomit was sitting at the back of her throat, competing with her wildly thumping heart. “Oh Maker,” she whimpered again, staring at the floor. “What am I going to do?”

 Another friend, Jowan, paid a visit when she was crawling out of the last vestiges of the Harrowing. Terror had almost made her lash out at him before he managed to calm her down. At first she thought he was curious about the ritual. Almost everyone was, and speculations ran rampant about those who occasionally vanished. Were they released? She always thought that was unlikely. Transferred to another Tower? That seemed the most logical deduction until she’d experienced it for herself. Morbid musers were right. People who failed were dead, but they weren’t thrown into some sort of bloody gauntlet for templar sport where they released so knights could hunt them down like animals. That was one of the more outrageous speculations she’d heard, but boredom fertilized imaginations.

 She told Jowan more about the Harrowing than she should have, but tried hard to be vague. All she wanted was a glass of water and a corner to crawl into so she could tremble for a week. Once she’d gotten past that, she’d considered asking about speeding up her training as a healer. There were a lot of magic schools she’d dabbled in, learning proficiency in the lower tiers of a few, but never advanced to the potent spells. If a war or Blight was coming to Ferelden, they were going to need healers. She didn’t consider herself especially brave, particularly in the face of legendary monsters, but armies had many wounded. A mage with the ability to save lives would be a noble, helpful contribution to king and country. It also might get her out of the Tower occasionally, but it was her home. Aside from avoiding a few of the templars who everyone knew were trouble, she was content there. Greagoir might be scary, but he was fair. As long as mages didn’t cause chaos by lighting anyone on fire, try to escape, or go sneaking off with templars for reenactments of _The Randy Dowager_ , Greagoir was content with watching for demons or blood magic.

 It bothered some of the mages, particularly if they’d been living wild as adults before they got pulled in. Audrie had been orphaned, starving and barely remembered life before the Circle. A gaggle of Chantry sisters had found her, fed her, clothed her, and given her to the templars. That kindness meant salvation, but her only home would be in jeopardy with the rest of Ferelden if a Blight came. They might be able to fortify themselves in the middle of the lake and from little she was able to retain from Cullen’s chess explanations on strategy. The Tower was isolated and defensible, but everyone needed to eat. If supply lines were cut off during a siege, templars and mages alike would eventually starve.

 Assuming Jowan didn’t get her killed one day into being a Harrowed mage, she might be able to use her talents to help. Magic was, after all, meant to serve mankind. That’s what she wanted to do, but her life expectancy had gone down to death before the ripe old age of nineteen with Jowan’s help.  “What am I going to do?” she moaned in a moment of self pity, slumping upright. “He’s in love, or thinks he is.” Some of the things Lily said about magic didn’t sit easily with Audrie, and she wondered how anyone could really love another person if they made demands like “give up magic.” Being born a mage was like breathing. Short of being made Tranquil, you couldn’t just stop.

Unfortunately, that was the plan. He’d give up magic and they’re run away to a farm where neither of them new how to grow so much as elfroot. Because he was sneaking around to spend time with a Chantry Initiate, Greagoir thought all the secrecy meant Blood Magic. Tranquility was kind compared to what he would do to a Maleficar, but Jowan was innocent. At least he hadn’t done anything worth being killed or made Tranquil yet. Trying to steal his phylactery to run away with Lily with a hare brained idea involving her getting a Rod of Fire _could_ get them all killed. Anders was the Tower’s most famous escape artist and his punishments were getting more and more severe with each success. Even in his infamy, he’d never tried to grab his phylactery.

 “My life is over,” she whined to the room and reluctantly stood up. She had to do something. Jowan would come looking for her eventually. If he didn’t, Cullen or another templar would make sure she hadn’t locked herself into a broom cupboard or something ridiculous.

Scuffling her feet against the stone, she trudged toward the door. First Enchanter Irving might be able to help, but that idea had already been contested by Jowan. He was afraid Lily would get into trouble, but Audrie couldn’t see how they could avoid consequences.  Whatever they were, they couldn’t possibly be as bad as the charges of blood magic. If she thought Jowan’s plans could work she might have entertained the idea of getting the Rod of Fire, but the starry eyed couple didn’t know how they were going to get out of the Tower once they had the phylactery. It wasn’t as if they could skip out the front doors hand in hand.

As much as the idea made her want to wet her small clothes, she had to admit, the frivolous threat she’d thrown at Lari might have more weight to it than she thought. Greagoir and the Chantry were in charge of Lily. Audrie didn’t want to see the girl hurt or reprimanded with severe punishment, but she was as guilty as Jowan. It was also Greagoir who had the real power over the entire situation because of the accusations of blood magic. Jowan swore he was innocent, and Audrie believed him. Wasn’t it better to be punished for an illicit romance which was already doomed than to be made Tranquil?

Oh Maker, was she actually thinking of talking to Greagoir? All by herself? He exercised daily by making laps around first floor. Evidently he liked mince pies, and everyone knew when he’d eaten too many because his routine changed from four laps to six. How furious would he be if she interrupted him?

Inspiration hit like a fireball.  “Cullen!” It was obvious. With him helping, she’d have the courage to talk to the Knight-Commander, and Cullen would help her. She knew he would if asked. Not giving herself a chance to change her mind, she charged forward, jogged wildly down halls.

Cullen calmly watched the few mages who routinely passed, doing his duty as he was taught. Audrie’s dash didn’t catch him off guard, but he stared as the carpet rumpled under the soles of her shoes with her abrupt stop. “Audrie? Are you ... alright?” Her hair was tumbled over itself in a disarray, and she was panting.

“I’m fine,” she lied, catching her breath. “I need a favor.” He tried to be unreadable, but she saw a twitch in the bottom corner of one of his lips. “This is important,” she promised. “Please,” she dropped her voice to where he could barely hear her, “tell me if the rumors about Jowan being made Tranquil are true.”

His eyebrows dropped like a portcullis, putting a barrier between them.  How did she know about that?  Secrets were hard to keep in the Circle, but most of the templars hadn’t been told. Audrie was staring at him plaintively, bringing back fond memories a family dog convincing him to part with his dinner. “You know I couldn’t tell you that, even if I knew.”

“I have to know for certain,” she told insisted solemnly, holding eye contact. She wanted him to know how serious she was. “If it’s true, I ...um... wanted to ask you if you’d take me to see Greagoir? If it’s not, then I don’t need to bother him.”

Cullen stared at her for a full ten seconds and could have heard a cork bounce off the top of a blanket. “Greagoir?” he finally repeated in disbelief. Mages never wanted to see the Knight-Commander, and most of them would have invited a demon to tea rather than the older templar. “I... I don’t understand. Why?”

“Just please tell me about Jowan,” she begged shamelessly, clasping her hands in front of her and flexing her knees.

Admittedly, he hadn’t been ready for her to ask quite in that way, and Cullen hesitated then gave a begrudging nod. “It’s true,” he confirmed against his better judgement.

“Then...” she shuffled her feet nervously, looking down at them, “um... will you take me to see Greagoir? I really don’t want to go alone, and I need to talk to him about something. It’s life and death, Cullen.”

She wasn’t prone to dramatics, which was the key reason and the young templar took her seriously. It wasn’t as if the Knight-Commander was going to do anything horrible to her, but that didn’t change the fact she was legitimately frightened.  “All right,” Cullen agreed to her request, concerned about the urgency. It was also hard to ignore how pretty she was, particularly the way her new robes hugged her... He cut the thought off immediately with self discipline. “I’ll just need to get someone to ... to take my post while we’re away.”

After asking Drass to temporarily watch the station, one confused templar and a mage with clacking knees went to knock at Greagoir’s office.

The Knight-Commander rose from his chair in a rattle of armor. His joints were starting to feel the strain and were stiff from sitting too long. Finding one of his templars on the other side of the door with a mage made him wonder what Audrie had been caught doing which she wasn’t supposed to. It was difficult to believe she would be causing trouble. Irving suggested her to the Grey Wardens, and her record didn’t reflect anything worse than silly mischief most of the children cooked up when they played. She was normally a model mage, but she gawked at him as if she expected him to cleave her in half at the waist. That was an unfortunate effect of his position, but they looked so young, now.

Neither of them spoke, so Greagoir prompted, “Yes?” He was tempted to spin both around and send them to Irving. He couldn’t imagine Audrie stooping to something dangerous so it would be the First Enchanter who would be required to speak with her. “Can I help you?”

“Um...” Audrie’s tongue glued itself to the roof of her mouth.

“She wanted to talk to you.”  Cullen tried to help. Considering she told him almost nothing, there weren’t many details he could give his superior.

“Very well,” the Knight-Commander opened his office door wider. “Come in.” The mage looked as if he’d just given her marching orders into the mouth of a dragon, but Cullen prodded her discreetly between the shoulders to make her move.

“Ser,” Audrie babbled, pacing around his office frantically like a wild bird suddenly thrown into a box. “There’s something happening that I think you should know about and I barely even know how to start but it’s very important and please just listen to me because you could be doing something that’s a horrible mistake and I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t try and do something about it!” She didn’t take a breath and the whole thing came out in a torrent.

“Calm down,” Greagoir ordered, pinching the bridge of his nose. He’d been unable to follow more than a quarter of the word tornado. Pulling out a chair for her before she bounced off the walls, he told her, “Sit down. Now go slowly and explain.” He tried to get her to nerves to settle and gave Cullen a chair before he took his own seat across from them. “What do you mean by mistakes, and what’s so important? Start at the beginning.”

“Ser,” she gulped, sitting straight as a fire poker and clutching the wooden chair seat with white knuckles. “It’s... it’s Jowan. I know you think he’s practicing Blood Magic, and there’s rumors that you’re going to make him Tranquil. It wasn’t Cullen,” she jumped ahead to keep her friend from being suspected of wrongdoing. “He’d never break ... whatever you call templar secrets. Jowan himself knows about it. He... he’s... um... he’s...” What she was about to do would have made Anders rip his hair out and alienated him for awhile. Mages didn’t side with templars, but it was the only way she could think of to save Jowan.

“Yes?” Greagoir prompted again curiously, curbing mild impatience. Obviously the girl was terrified, and he was not a complete tyrant, no matter what they thought. Pouring her a cup of water, he put it into her hands so she could gulp mechanically.

“He’s ... er... romantically involved with Lily. She’s one of the Initiates, and ... and it’s forbidden, of course. Please, Ser,” she entreated, biting her bottom lip, “don’t make him Tranquil over this. They should be punished.  I understand that. I do. I also know this will get them into trouble, but please,” she pleaded, on the verge of tears. “Please don’t force Tranquility on him unless you can prove that he’s a maleficar.” She knew the Knight-Commander would never take the situation on her word alone. All she wanted was the chance for Jowan to be able to prove his innocence. “Surely Tranquility is too harsh for just... just... being ... stupid about ... uh... a ... um...” She was sounding worse than Cullen when he got nervous, and the subject matter actually made him blush even worse than she was. “Doing that,” she squeaked.

“Do you really believe he is innocent of the charges of Blood Magic?” Greagoir demanded seriously, unconcerned about the delicate topic which was making them both uncomfortable. It was inconsequential. If Jowan wasn’t the one dabbling in the forbidden arts, then the templars might be looking in the wrong direction. That possibility bothered the Knight-Commander more than any unwise experimentation between youths. To capture the wrong person and allow a real Maleficar to continue roaming the Circle was unthinkable. The rest could be taken care of later.

“He told me he isn’t practicing it, and... I... I...” She couldn’t say that she completely believed him with a clear conscience. Surely he wasn’t, and she adamantly felt he should be proven guilty before they took any extreme action against him.

Greagoir understood the balky words too well, but he was not completely unfair. “Very well. I will give him the chance to prove that he is not actually a blood mage, but he and Lily will be punished for this. She has defiled herself before the Maker for breaking her vows. If you’re right about Jowan, then I will speak with Irving about rescinding the order for Tranquility for a lesser punishment. Where is he right now? I will need to get Irving and speak to him about this.”

“They,” she corrected meekly, feeling terrible, “they’re together in the chapel, Ser.”

“Very well. Cullen, stay here with her.” He didn’t to want to put her into unnecessary danger when she’d come to him of her own volition to serve the Circle. “I’ll return for both of you shortly.”

After he’s been gone long enough to watch the wax roll down the side of a lit candle several times, Audrie muttered. “It might have been us. You know, the whole thing with Lily and Jowan? It might have been you and I if we weren’t stronger.”

Cullen coughed uncomfortably, but he couldn’t deny the truth.  “We have stayed strong,” he told her instead, “and we... we always will. There is no sin against the Maker if we are friends.”

“I know.” She smiled up at him, although it couldn’t banish the sadness from her oddly colored green-blue eyes. “I’m glad we’re friends,” she told him candidly, using a discarded quill from Greagoir’s waste bin and a sheet of parchment to doodle on while they waited.

“Me... me too,” he told her warmly. Ultimately, they’d be destined to spend their lives together unless he was transferred or she found a legitimate way out of the tower. Part of him felt guilty for hoping she never left. He knew she wanted more freedom, but she was safe in the Tower. It also meant they’d be able to continue simple things like their chess matches.

Audrie’s nose itched and she scrubbed it without thinking. She was grateful for the bond which she shared with Cullen, although that didn’t stop her from wishing they could be more at times. Unfortunately Anders was right, and love was just a game inside the Tower. “Have you ever thought about getting married to a regular woman?” she asked him, genuinely wondering. She might not have a choice, but templars had more options.

“You have ink on ... on your nose,” he told her as he picked up a rag which Greagoir kept beside  parchments to clean his hands after writing any length of time.  Audrie giggled as Cullen wiped her face, smudging as much black around as he removed. “I didn’t take any vows,” he admitted, although his best friend Kenley had. Cullen wasn’t like Carroll either, but with an uncertain future he hadn’t committed to one direction or the other. Templars were allowed to marry as long as a spouse could contend with the fact their husband or wife would be away more than at a homestead. Those people were rare enough, but on the chance he might meet a woman like that, he decided against chastity vows. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I think I will always have my duty.”

“Kind of like I’ll always be a mage,” she answered sadly and shut her eyes as he managed to smear off the rest of the ink, or at least turn her cheek filmy grey because it was so thin. Her longing left behind a dull pain she didn’t have a name for but knew she’d have to learn to live with if they remained friends.

While the two of them discussed prospects which would never be, the Knight-Commander and First Enchanter had a conference. When they returned to Audrie, she was instructed to help Jowan with his plan while they monitored the situation. He would be given the chance to prove his guilt or innocence depending on how he behaved over the next night.

Audrie wanted to argue, but she was too scared, in spite of having Cullen nearby. Never good at lying and worse at acting, she was sure Jowan would know something was wrong. Stern looks from the older men crushed her protests and she tucked her head, ready to obey. It wasn’t what she had in mind, but what else was there to do? She’d convinced herself it was the only way to help, and proceeded as ordered.


End file.
